I have put off participating in this Grassroots Blogger Campaign, despite my promises to Kapgar.

Because I knew it would mean writing this post.

Officially, the “rules” for this campaign only dictate that you write about sex. That’s not so hard. Hell, I’ve done that over and over again here (which I’m assuming is why IT Departments across the world hate me), but they’ve always been couched in self deprecating humor. I could have done that again, and slapped a label on the post that it was to “bring awareness to The Rape Abused and Incest National Network”.

But it would have been a lie, and an insult to what this movement is about.

How could I, in good conscience, pretend to support a cause for survivors of sexual violence if I refused to tell my own story?

I think it might be time now, after all these years, for me to tell mine. At least, the parts I can stand to tell.

(I’m putting this behind the fold because it’s long. And I can’t quite stomach the idea of it being on the front page.)

I was 17 years old, and out of control. Ever since the painful heartbreak at the hands of my First Love several months back, I had been giving in to rebellion in every way I could imagine. I was drinking until I threw up or passed out nearly every weekend. I was collecting sexual conquests fast enough that I was sure eventually I would no longer regret having given that Cheating Son of A Bitch my virginity. I started smoking cigarettes before and after school and getting high on marijuana whenever the opportunity arose.

If my parents had ever known the details, they wouldn’t have recognized me. Truth be told, I barely recognized myself. I took that as a sign that my efforts were paying off.

My friends and I spent most of our nights hanging out at The House. There is always a House somewhere in small town Iowa when you’re in highschool. It’s where the guys who graduated years ago settle in when they’re not ready to grow up. They buy beer and host parties in exchange for a few more years of their youth.

Our House was occupied by five guys who had about ten false starts at college between them, a counter top cluttered with half full liquor bottles, a ridiculously expensive stereo system, and a pool table. It was the perfect safe haven for a highschool senior looking to play at being Grown Up.

It was no surprise then to find myself with my “best friend” one night at The House, listening to the radio and drinking whatever free booze had been supplied for us. We were prepared for a long night of partying. I’d told my parents I was spending the night at her hours, and her parents didn’t seem to care where she spent her nights. It was perfect.

I was standing in front of the stereo when it started. He was the biggest of The House residents – and the oldest. It was not surprising to anyone who knew him that he had played football during his short stint in college. That seemed to impress a lot of girls, but I’d always been turned off by his cro magnon brow and leering grin. Tonight was no different.

“What are you listening to?” he hissed in my ear. He’d braced himself behind me with one oversized arm on either side of me.

“The same thing you’re listening to,” I quipped, avoiding his suffocating gaze as I tried to casually slip out from under his arms.

“Why don’t you like me Britt? You’ve never like me.” It seemed he was making a great effort to appear pathetic, but it just came off as sleazy and insincere.

“It’s not that I don’t like you. Don’t be stupid.” I laughed, certain he wouldn’t hear the discomfort in my voice.

“You don’t like me as much as you like my friends.” I’m sure he thought he was being witty and suggestive, raising his eyebrows at me and giving a look that suggested we were sharing a dirty secret.

“Fuck off.”

I pushed past him, no longer concerned with appearing casual. I knew what he meant. I’d recently been “seeing” a friend of his, which meant we would leave parties together and have sex in his car before he dropped me off at home. Apparently Cro Magnon Boy assumed that this made me fair game among the rest of the Too Fucking Old To Be Dating Highschool Girls crowd.

I seethed as I pounded back another drink. How fucking dare he? I wasn’t sleeping with Brad because I was some little toy they could pass around at parties. I was sleeping with him because I wanted to. I was in control. I called the shots.

I slammed back a few more shots to reiterate the point I was making to myself.

He had no right to treat me like some kind of slut. I wasn’t doing anything different than what men were expected to do. And that certainly didn’t make them “fair game”. No one called them sluts. Oh, no. That was just “boys being boys”.

I choked back my self righteous indignation with a full on Lick, Slam, Suck tequila shot.

And the world started to spin.

I found my girlfriend and laid my head on her shoulder, willing my stomach to sit still.

“I need to go home,” I pleaded.

I remember her laughing. She never got too drunk. She was always too mature and in control to get The Spins. She told me to quit being a baby.

“No, really, I need to lie down. Like – now.“

“We’re not leaving.” I noticed for the first time the other House roommate she’d been cozying up to all night. She turned to him for help with her completely ridiculous friend. “Is there some place she can lay down for a while?”

I remember being shuffled into what was clearly a Guy’s Room. There was a bed in one corner and a pile of clothes in the other. The windows were covered with blankets. All I cared about was that it was dark and quiet. The fact that the bed was low enough to allow me to keep one foot on the floor (which I swear to this day helps with bed spins) was a convenient bonus. I fell asleep quickly.

I have no idea how long I slept. What I remember is the fog I found myself in next. I seemed to be kissing someone. Or maybe someone was kissing me. Someone was touching me. I floated in and out of consciousness for what seemed like an eternity.

And then the world came back to me in a rush. It was the Cro Magnon who had pissed me off earlier. As his breath seemed to work it’s way up and down my body, I realized this must be his room, his bed I’d taken refuge in.

“What the hell are you – stop. What the fuck?”

It was as if he hadn’t heard me. I wondered if I’d spoken the words aloud, or just in my own cotton-stuffed head.

“Stop, please,” I turned my head to avoid the onslaught of his mouth.

“Shhh, you’re OK. I’m not going to hurt you,” his voice came out calm and soothing and my mind reeled.

What the hell was going on? Was I imagining this? What had I done or said before I’d fully woken up?

“No. Stop. I’m sorry, but this isn’t right. I changed my mind.”

I heard him laugh as he continued to reassure me that everything would be fine. He seemed amused that I was nervous. The weight of his body suddenly became magnified on top of my own 120 pound frame.

I thought about screaming. I could scream and he’d know I was serious. I would scream and my friends would come running in here and they would tell him to get the fuck off me and pull me to safety. If I could just scream, this would all be over right now.

But I didn’t. I didn’t scream. I didn’t make another sound. I squeezed my eyes shut and demanded the tears not to come. While he ripped my pants to my knees and did the same with his own, I didn’t say a word. I focused on trying to breath as the weight of his upper body crushed the air from my lungs.

They’ll think I’m being stupid. I’m being stupid. I’m making a big deal out of nothing. This isn’t a big deal.

Over and over the words pounded through my head as I tried to drown out the feeling of him on top of me, and then inside me.

It’s just sex, Britt. It’s just sex. It’s no big deal. You shouldn’t even be here. This is no big deal.

And before I knew it, it was over. I was finally relieved of his weight as he rolled over beside me. I stared at the wall in the silence that now filled the room. My clothes felt too small as I struggled to pull my pants up, while he breathed deeply beside me – obviously falling asleep.

“My clothes… I can’t… they don’t…”

He leaned over the edge of the bed and picked up a t-shirt and sweatpants off the floor. “Here”, he offered as he tossed them behind his back to me.

I got up and changed my clothes. I climbed back into bed, beside him. I pressed myself to the wall and begged sleep to come for me.

I’ve never told this story in its entirety before now. As I write it, I’m reminded why. My stomach churns with the vile of a major violation, but my mind reasons that the rest of me is overreacting. I’m making something out of nothing. I’m looking for an excuse to use the R word because it comes complete with its own membership card.

I am the epitome of the girl who asked for it.

I shouldn’t have been there that night. I shouldn’t have been whoring around in the months beforehand. I should have fought back. I should have screamed. He probably doesn’t remember that night as anything more than another drunken one night stand.

And still, my stomach churns.

I thought that in writing this I would be able to put this dichotomy to rest for myself. I imagined this post ending with a firm declaration on one side of the fence or the other. There have been few issues in my head (and my life) that I haven’t been able to resolve through writing it out.

But I can’t. I can’t use the R word, or the word “victim” or the word “survivor”, because that seems to do an injustice to those who have a rightful, painful claim to those words. But I can’t put the uneasiness and nausea when I think about it to rest either.

I think I’ll go back to not thinking about it.

DONATE TO RAINN HERE. When you donate, please make sure you reference “GBBMC2008,” and go ahead and include Karl’s name (Karl Erikson) and blog name (SecondHand Tryptophan) if you do. He deserves it.

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I have been reading your blog for awhile now and have yet to comment. Reading this post was very powerful for me, and reminded me of my own sexual assault. I have told my story many times before (I’m a social worker and have had to deal with all of my own “stuff” before I could work with a client), and every time it makes my stomach churn, it brings tears to my eyes and reminds me of the pain and humiliation I felt that night.

What happened to was in no way your fault. You were not asking for anything, no matter who you were hooking up, what you were wearing, and how much you had to drink.

Even if you don’t want to be a card carrying member of the R club, please know that your words are very powerful and moved me very much.

You did not ask for it. No one does. You have a right to claim the word… but I totally understand where you are coming from. I am also that girl.
I couldn’t find the words to say to Karl, but you two, have done a great thing. For me and for everyone. Thank you for having the courage to share.

Grr, that just pisses me off and makes my skin crawl all at the same time. Still, I can so relate to the thought processes. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done this, shouldn’t have done that. I should have fought, I should have screamed, I should have told someone.

I can’t say that this type of thing ever happened to me. I’ve never spoken the word NO and had someone ignore it. However, I’ve been hit on by slobs I didn’t want to be with. But… idiot that I was, I said yes. Because I wanted someone to like me, whether it was the slob, or his friends, his “clique”. I never really had my body raped. But I know what it’s like to have that happen to my soul.

Britt, your bravery in telling such a painful tale just makes me all the more glad I found your blog. You’re an amazing person.

Sweetie. You can call or not call it anything you like. Fact remains that it was involuntary and should never have happened. I am sorry you had to go through this and I have the utmost respect for you posting about it and letting it out!!!

You were raped. You did not ask for it. You did not cause it. You did not deserve it.

It angers me that you are denying yourself the right to totally feel the pain that obviously still lives deep inside you. It angers me that you think (and thought back then) that somehow this violation of your body and your soul was justified.

It belittles who you are as a human being not to allow yourself to feel the anger and indignation of being raped.

This is a wound that will never heal because you’ve allowed yourself to devalue your self-worth. You may think that you’ve buried it and set it aside … but you haven’t. It has affected your existence since the day it happened. And it will continue to affect you in your ability to feel like a complete person in everything you do.

This is a wound that is just festering and will continue to affect how you feel about yourself as a person in everything you do. And as long as you allow yourself to devalue your own worth it will reflect in everything you do as a wife, mother, friend, and every facet of your life.

You will never get past it until you allow yourself to rightfully feel the pain from this event. You can’t let something go if you refuse to recognize it for what it was in the first place.

You were raped. And every day that goes by that you unjustly put the blame on yourself is just another day that there is a gaping hole where your soul resides.

Your story is almost identical to mine, except that it was within 2 weeks of arriving as a freshman in college, at a fraternity house,and I woke up as the guy was finishing and allowing his friend to have a turn.

Maria at Immoral Matriarch recently posted her story. Now you are posting yours. I’ve been thinking about posting mine, although both my father and my sister read my blog and I don’t want to give them a heart attack.

This made my stomach churn for you and my eyes water with tears for you. The R word is something I can’t talk about. I commend your bravery is sharing this story because I know how hard it was to relive this.

Thank you so much for sharing something that all too many of us don’t have the courage to speak up about. You ARE a victim. No, fuck that. YOU? Are a SURVIVOR. We are survivors. And it is because of people like you, who are brave enough to talk about what happened, that this horrible epidemic is finally being addressed.

My heart breaks for you because I know the pain of your story. I know feeling like you asked for it. I know about trying to blame yourself. And I now know how to say with confidence that you did NOT ask for it. You said no. And you are a survivor.

I am impressed with this post. In the quality of the writing and in the honesty with which you tell your story. Impressed, but sorry that you had to go through this. There are some really great comments here… your brother’s made me want to cry… so sweet. And Mattie’s is right on. The fact that you feel some level of guilt and shame about what happened is taking away from your freedom to fully feel the pain associated with being violated. One well kept secret of childhood sexual abuse is that it isn’t unusual for children to fully participate in their abuse, the shame of that is almost the hardest thing for them to deal with as adults. But like them, you were a kid when this happened. You were a young teen-aged girl just trying to find her way in the world. Were all of your choices smart ones? Of course not. Since when do teenagers make smart choices? No matter what, it was not your fault, you did not ask for it, there is no-one to blame but the guy who did it.

I don’t think that I have ever heard this story in it’s entirety. No one deserves to be raped, and I know of the “houses” and thier patrons. I may even know who this person was….or at least heard of him. And while I know all of these things, I know that rape is never “deserved”.
Love ya!

This is a very open and powerful post. Like the others have said, what happened was not your fault and you sure as hell didn’t deserve it. No one deserves to be taken advantage of or attacked like you were.

That was a moving and powerful post. I consider myself lucky that it never happened to me, when I did say NO, it worked – but that was just it, luck of the draw. It was not just sex, that is when both parties say yes and mean it. It was rape, and you were violated.

96% of the rapes that occur in this country are committed by someone the victim knows. Only 20% are ever reported, because the victim feels they should have “done” something. Or they were in the wrong. They aren’t, you did nothing wrong. Drinking, smoking, partying are not invitations to rape.

For the first time you made me cry…. not that its a bad thing… I just felt your pain and anguish and honey it’s time to let go… My grandmother used to always tell me “Let go and Let God” There is no reason you need to carry this weight any longer and I have a feeling you know that too. But let me make one thing very clear… you are a SURVIVOR!!! Got it? :heartbeat: :hug:

Shoulda, coulda, woulda? Aren’t those all things that we think about in hindsight? I am sorry this happened to you. It is not your fault. You are not the epitome of a girl asking for it. You were raped. Say it. It has healing powers to speak the words out loud. I know. Thanks for having the strength to share.

I know we’ve talked about this but I wanted to get my ass over here and post this for your readers (http://karensugarpants.com/2007/03/12/depression-is-a-four-letter-mindfuck/)
and for you, to know you are not alone and that this very definitely was rape. I don’t see how it could be anything else.
I’m so proud of you for posting this – I know the strength it took and hope it helped you in some way. I’m always here for you.

A very wise man once told me to say and repeat to myself, “I will not ‘should’ on myself today.”

That worthless piece of trash? Deserves to be flattened into the pavement. By beating yourself up over it to this day? Still gives him power. Don’t give it to him and don’t should on yourself today or ever again.

I can not speak from my experience…but from my husband’s. He was molested by an older brother. I do not know the details and I will not ask, as he doesn’t wish to talk about it. The only reason he’s said anything was to get me to realize why he wants nothing to do with this brother. I wish I could tell his mother so that she will understand the rift between them, but I can’t. His pain burns within him and I can’t extinguish it.

Rape it Rape is Rape. You are a Rape Survivior, and this makes me angry and sad and sick all at the same time. I am so sorry for your pain, and you are very brave to share. This will make a huge difference to the people who read it.

Isn’t it amazing, in our society, our part of the world, that some men can take sex from women because they perceive them to be “asking for it”. And I wonder how many time things like this happen that no one will ever know about. No one will go punished.

My best friend was brutally raped and left for dead when we were in high school. I always felt guilty, as if it were my fault, because we always walked home from school together. Except that day. She walked home alone because I was doing something else.

You are a very brave person for telling this story. Now that it’s out in the open, it might not be so bottled up inside you anymore.

You were raped. It doesn’t matter what you were wearing, which one of the asshole friends you were hooking up with, or how much you had to drink. There is no excuse — NO FUCKING EXCUSE — for what this lowlife did to you. But like others, I agree that by you feeling guilty is merely giving him the power and control over you.

No one is asking you to FORGET this happened, but focus more on how this happening to you has made you stronger. More convicted in your beliefs. A better mother, wife, daughter, sister, and friend– because you are brave, and you are STRONG. You’ve gone through something no one should ever have to, and you SURVIVED, girl!

Honey, “date rape” (which is what I would call this) is no less a rape than any other rape.

You said, “I am the epitome of the girl who asked for it.”.

There are some situations where girls do put themselves in dangerous situations where it is a possibility, but as soon as you say “no”, that’s it. It’s done. If it goes further, then it’s rape. Whether you fight back or not. Just the words “no” constitute a mandate for any man to stop, whether it’s violent or not.

You DID NOT ASK FOR IT. You did not put yourself in a position for it to happen. You said no, that’s sufficient, whether you told yourself to grin and bear it or fight back.

Please don’t downplay this horrible incident as “not as bad as other rapes”. Rape is rape. You say no, and that should be that.

During my single drunken one night stand–I never said no, and I practically DID ask for it, because I was feeling sorry for myself, I was beyond drunk and had been flirting with the guy all evening. During the act, I felt out of body, could not believe what I was doing and I regretted it in the morning. That was asking for it. YOU my dear did not ask for it. You asked him to stop. You told him to stop.

I think that puts you firmly in the category of rape and you have every right to claim it no matter the gray areas you see that make you question yourself.

I’ve seen it said a few times by other commenters, that *I* was that girl too. I too kept the secret for a LONG time. I felt partially to blame for the longest time, I should have screamed, I Shouldn’t of been drinking, I should of fought, etc etc so on and so on. This is something I have still yet to come to deal with, and eats at me almost daily. Someday I really need to face that demon head on.

The whole story is SO SOOO close to my own. Mine just has a bit of a different outcome. That outcome is 6 years old now and currently at school taking tests.

No, you didn’t ask for it. And I want to kick that guy’s ass too. I stand by what I’ve said before: you’ve got balls. Telling such stories in their entirety for the first time is tough. I grew up in small town Illinois and had those houses too. It’s what makes me cringe the most when I think about my own kids growing up and ‘hanging out’ on their own.

I’m not sure there is anything to say that wasn’t already said in comments above me; but I have to say it regardless…

It was rape: you said no, he didn’t listen, and he violated you. It is terribly hard to question ourselves on whether it was real or whether it was rape and on and on the questions come… This was rape and you did NOTHING wrong. ((hugs))

Allright… I just have to say it…. We must be long lost siblings… so many of you stories are so close and so near mine it freaks me out…We have alot of the same personalities quirks or coolness… whatever you want to call it!!! I live on the other side of Iowa from where I believe you grew up… and attended a major university near your hometowm… Thanks for always sharing what the rest of us are afraid to share…. :rock:

I want to quietly say that your story is similar to mine. And that fence you’ve been on? I’ve been on it for 16 years. It’s almost worse than knowing which side you are actually on, because you think you haven’t the right to deal with things in a certain way and are just wrong as wrong can be. And guilty.

In my wild teen years, I drank too much. I hung out with the older guys at their house. I was foolish in my decisions. And there but for the grace of God go I.

You deal with your pain in the way that works best for you. You have your regrets – but you didn’t ask for it, you didn’t deserve it, and it is NOT your fault. I cry for you and what you and so many others have been through. :hug:

Britt…. I read this earlier and it was like a kidney punch of pain. (and I had to wait to post….) Reading (and also feeling) what you went through and then remembering a night of my own that no matter what will never be erased. Thank you for reminding me that no matter what NO ONE ASKS for it. And it doesn’t matter what you did before… No means no.

:slaphead: oh, shit girl. You were at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

I think all young girls go through this stage, albeit yours was to the extreme.

While I didn’t sleep around, I did do party tricks with bottles and “other things.” Self-worth wasn’t a high point. I did go to a remote, rural area with two guys I just met in their car and smoked their weed and drank their alcohol. I didn’t even know their names nor tell anyone who I was with…they could have done whatever they wanted and gotten away with it. Luck would have it that they were decent. I put myself in this situation countless times.

I was an idiot. You were an idiot. But we were young.

Luckily, I was never raped, murdered, harmed, but it was just luck. You, my friend, were unlucky to have such of a bitch of a friend and be put in the situation to be taken advantage of. He was an asshole and loser and yes, a rapist.

Now, with a daughter of my own, thinking of what I would do makes me absolutely ill. I get panic attacks. It makes me sick to my stomach thinking of my baby in the same situations. :crazy:

All you can do now is instill your experiences and your mis-steps into your children so they don’t make your mistakes.

Then insert a GPS tracking chip in them like they have for dogs, eh? And put a tracking system in their car. And subject the to breathalyzers. And lie detectors. Yep, wild girls turn into paranoid Mommies. At least this one did.

Anyway, I can say I was never raped, but I have been grabbed inappropriately without my consent. It was at my first job, when I was 15 years old, by a 70 year old customer. The customer decided that I liked him enough, he could grab my breast. I think if other people weren’t around, it could have even been worse. In my heart, I know it could have been worse.

Anyway, I consider his violation of me to be an assault. Even almost 20 years later, I still think about it from time to time, so it still affects me. Sometimes to this day and to a certain extent, men scare me a bit. Mostly, though, I feel like you and go back to not thinking about it.

Anyway, if something as simple as my experience can still affect me, I can’t imagine what you and your commenters who have been through rape or incenst must feel. In fact, I feel kind of silly saying anything at all.

No matter what you think, you didn’t ask for it. No one asks to be raped or assaulted.

Thank you for sharing your story. I can only imagine how painful that must be.. it’s one of my greatest fears in life, and regardless of how you behaved beforehand, no one deserves to be violated that way.. no one is “asking for it”

I think that many people feel like they could have stopped it. And that they didn’t seems to allow them to blame themselves, at least partially, which makes it hard to call it what it is. I won’t say what it is because what I think doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who can say it and have it really make a difference. I’m not sure how you can begin to accept what it was until you can forgive yourself for not doing everything that you think you could have done to stop what happened.

Britt, I ready frequently but rarely comment. Thank you for telling your story. I think in many ways it will help you to heal. YOU WERE NOT ASKING FOR IT!! No one asks for this to happen to them. I don’t know you but I want to hug you. I know how hard it is to tell your story….

britt, if you desire to use labels (“rape” or “survivor” or “victim”) then by all means use them. you were violated and have every right to those words. know that you did nothing wrong. even your bitch of an ex friend didn’t cause this. the worthless bastard who did not stop at “no” is totally responsible for his actions. him and him alone. please don’t accept blame for him needing to take advantage of young girls who over drink.

what i wouldn’t give for a baseball bat and him in a dark room.

unfortunately i have a similar story. unlike you i am not ready to write about it now. hell, rarely am i even ready to speak about it. i am grateful that you and karl and others are speaking up. i know i need to, i know how much it can help heal. i am just not there yet. but you? you give me hope. love ya lady.

Wow! You are very brave for writing this post. I’m sorry you experienced such a horrible violation.

To me your story is not just about you saying “don’t”. What is even worse is the fact that the perpetrator took advantage of the fact you were obviously drunk. I don’t care if you started kissing him back or showed any kind of interest. He started his actions with you totally wasted.

Now your perpetrator may have been drunk too, but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. I have been drunk many times too and I have never tried to force myself on ANYONE! What this guy did was predatory and far beyond any behavior that can be excused by drunkenness.

It makes me sad that there are men like him out there giving all men a bad name.

Britt, you were unwise, but unwise does not deserve to be victimized. This guy is not a “normal” guy, he is predator and the shame is all his.

Similar story for me but I’ve never really acknowledged it as rape as I didn’t actually say no. There’s a load of background to the whole thing but basically, I was 15 at the time and he was married, with kids, in his 30′s. I was in what should have been a safe environment. I didn’t want him to but when he got into my bed I didn’t know what to do. I haven’t let it scar my life but as I’ve got older (now 28) I’ve realised more and more how wrong it was and I wish I’d screamed the house down and exposed the dirty bastard for what he was. The fact is someone who should have known better took advantage of me. Rape? I don’t know. Violation – Absolutely.

It’s time for you to heal. Ok? You won’t forget what happened, but acknowledge that it wasn’t your fault and allow yourself to become whole again. It is a life experience you had, but it doesn’t need to dictate your future life experiences.

I too had an experience like this and like you have told myself a million times I shouldn’t have acted as I did beforehand. I think I have been able to move on. I put it down as a big lesson learned. I learned lots of big lessons when young!

Are you able to feel that way about your experience? I always feel that bad things happen to teach us something, did this have a positive effect on your life afterwards, your behaviour maybe? If it did, then a lesson was learned.

Sorry it this isn’t helpful, but thanks for sharing something so personal with us.

You’re a brave woman Britt. Many people would shy away from telling their story. But that’s exactly what they need to do…tell their story. Break through the silence. The silence is what keeps it going.

Btw – I’ve done a ‘guest-writer post’ on another’s site, and have linked this post to it. Once it gets posted, I’ll email you to let you know.

Britt, this is almost exactly, to a T, what my second rape was like. And I want you to know that I went through the same self blame… if I hadn’t drank so much, if I hadn’t done this, if I hadn’t done that…

It’s all bullshit.

The bottom line is no man in their right mind should want to have sex with a woman who clearly is not of sound mind and body to make the decision for herself. And when he makes the decision for her, it’s rape.

Your situation makes you no less a survivor than the rest of us. And it’s not a contest. Survivors come in many different experiences and packages.

Sorry it took so long for me to comment. I’ve been avoiding comment on all GBBMC posts because I don’t want to look like I’m showing any favoritism. However, this one made me, well, need to say something… nobody ever asks for it. Nobody ever deserves it. Nobody ever needs to just live with it. EVER.

I think this is literature, not the account of a real happening. It has the feeling of a story written to be read. Of course a lot of people cannot tell the difference between literature and a real account of events.

I found this blog through a blog through a blog, actually I’m not really sure how I came to find this blog, but I read it, I cried, I panicked, I felt sick, I threw up, I hid from my computer, I came back, I read some more, I cried, panicked, felt sick over and over again. Writing this comment is as hard as writing that post must have been for you. I can’t bring myself to use the R word, and I don’t say “victim” or “survivor” either. I can’t even come out and say what I’m trying to say exactly, instead I use every word around the words that I’m trying to say. It was several years ago and yet, like you I wonder what I did to deserve it, how I could have done more to prevent it, what I did wrong. I feel as if I should thank you for writing this post, I feel as if I should find the courage to tell my story, but I can’t. And so like you, I will go back to not thinking about it.

My $0.02? If you were violated — and you were, no matter what happened beforehand — you have the ‘right’ to use the R word. Whatever the case, though, I guess that’s just semantics. The point is that he was (and likely is) a control freak asshole who didn’t respect the body and rights of someone else. And you? You’re an amazing girl who was going through a rough time. Nobody deserves that.

I’m an older male with wife and adult children. I read through all the comments and can feel the pain and the emotion but to be honest, I think there’s world of misunderstanding here. I’m not sure that females understand the male brain, or the female brain. Nature is all about passing genes from one generation to the next over millions of years. Male brains are the product of selection, and the only reason why each of us males is here today is that our ancestors weren’t Mr nice guy. The Mr nice guys didn’t contribute to the gene pool, but Mr bad guy did. The same with females: women that froze up added their genes to the gene pool, women that fought back too much, might have gotten themselves killed. As a male, I’m very much aware of the strength of my sex drive. I has to be strong. In the evolution males fight to the death over the right to mate. In our civilised life, most of the time the emotions are easy enough to control, but I’m very much aware of how close to the edge it can feel when the opportunity starts to present itself. I’m sure most young women have no idea how strong the force can be for the male when the conditions arise, and how much force of self control is required. Its that old genetic heritage kicking in. Obviously, most males most of the time can control their feelings, but given the circumstances and enough provocation self control loses out. Young women seem unaware they can playing with fire. I’ve never raped anyone but at times it has required a fair amount of self-control, and the young innocent things seem to so unaware. Living with a group of horny young males and getting drunk is just inviting trouble. Girls might like to think they should be able to do what they like and then say “no”, but the reality is they are being unfair to the males who are a victim of their instincts as much as the females. Are the males are supposed to have all the self control, and the women have none? What self control do the females have to have? As an older male I am smart enough to know to be very wary of being in circumstances where something can happen. I don’t like to play with fire myself. Women should promote the same caution. Nothing justifies rape, but what justifies blatant stupidity.

Yeah, tooafraid, she was just inviting trouble. And you know what? She shouldn’t have worn clothes that showed any skin, because men just can’t help themselves. Maybe she should have worn something that covered her full body so that she wouldn’t tempt anyone. I mean, men are a victim of their instinct, so she should also make sure she smells bad, just so they don’t do anything that they can’t help. And God help her if she smiled or talked to any of them, because that’s just inviting them to do whatever they want, because it’s instinctual, regardless of what she wants.

Next time, I’m sure she’ll wrap herself in burlap and dog shit and just sit in a corner and not speak to anyone to avoid inviting rape, okay?

Britt – I’m totally new to your blog and somehow came across this post today. I am amazed at how similar our stories are… down to our first heartache and the “house” – the same thing happened to me when I was 17. I completely understand how you feel… I feel the same way and its something I haven’t really talked about to anyone other than my husband. Thank you for sharing your story.

I’m assuming you have been able to obtain the full IP address of the two cowards??

If you do, I wouldn’t mind assisting you in posting their complete IP address and information on my blog. The Whois site will be able to tell you who ‘owns’ that IP, if the idiots did that through their work computers, then you know already that can be completely tracked.

I wonder how many others would be willing to post their information on their sites. Who knows…someone may recognize the IP as well.

I wanted to thank you for writing this. I had a similar experience happen to me and i’ve always hated that I can’t give it a label. I’ve had people tell me it was the “R” word and I’ve justified to myself that what happened occured because i wasn’t strong enough to get out of the situation. i’ve rationalized it as “ok” and “not a big deal”.

i know the guy thought it was nothing, never even considered that i didn’t really want to be there. that I wasn’t playing hard to get. thank you. I needed to read that.

If you feel that it was rape, then it was. Don’t ever feel or let someone make you feel like your experiences are less valid or not “bad” enough to deserve the proper label. I often feel that way, and I hate it.

[...] to read a few blogs that speak from personal experience. Karl, from Secondhand Tryptophan and Britt from Miss Britt are two that not only come to mind for me, but are informative, inspiring and very touching. Please [...]

Thank you for sharing your story. I stumbled onto your blog this morning, and have been sifting through….and this one I had to comment on. Because there are so many women like you (and like me) that have experienced this. And I just wanted to say that I appreciate you for being so brave and putting this (and your whole life for that matter) out for other people to see. And remember that you didn’t do anything to deserve this, and that you aren’t alone. *hugs*

Thank you for writing this and being so honest. I have a similar story. Lied to my parents about where I was going, said no twice but didn’t scream even though there were people who would have heard me. I’ve always blamed myself because I didn’t yell. Thinking it’s my fault for not doing enough to make him stop. Just recently have I come to the realization that I was a 15 year old kid and he was a 19 year old man who should have known better. I’m sorry for your pain….and mine too.

Also, Britt’s Mom, thanks for being a great Mom. Some would have (did) just said “I told you so”.